


in your darkest sorrow

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Character Death, Community: poetry_fiction, Dementia, Established Relationship, F/M, Hospitals, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 10:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17702492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: "Today is not one of his better days," comes the soft reply.  "In fact, this may be the worst one he's had yet.  You really should consider--""If you cherish your life, you won't finish that sentence,dear.  Now let me go see my husband."





	in your darkest sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Date Written: 7 February 2019  
> Word Count: 1876  
> Written for: poetry_fiction 2019  
> Prompt: see quote below  
> Summary: "Today is not one of his better days," comes the soft reply. "In fact, this may be the worst one he's had yet. You really should consider--"
> 
> "If you cherish your life, you won't finish that sentence, _dear_. Now let me go see my husband."  
> Spoilers: Post-series, but consider everything in the series up for grabs, except for the events surrounding Gold in the S7 finale.  
> Warnings: dementia, use of restraints, **major character death**  
>  Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: This was legit one of the hardest fics I've ever written. Dementia runs in my family, and I thought it would be fascinating to have it happen to the Dark One, well past his third century of life. How would his wife and former prized pupil handle this brilliant strategist and sorcerer losing his memories and his ability to discern where and when he is, as well as whether he's speaking to his wife or her mother, his former lover? The title of this fic comes from the Stevie Nicks song, "Has Anyone Ever Written Anything For You", which played on repeat as I wrote this fic. I chose Alasdair as Gold's cursed given name because it means "protector/defender of men" and would be a fitting dig from the Evil Queen to her mentor. This may or may not end up as a proper series down the line. And for those who are curious, there may or may not be a reference to my GoldenQueen series, "Sweet and Tangy".
> 
> And yes, I understand that this potentially sounds like _The Notebook_. That was NOT intentional.
> 
> Scottish Gaelic translations (via [Omniglot](https://www.omniglot.com/language/endearment/gaelic.htm))  
> * _mo chridhe_ \-- my heart  
> * _m'eudail_ \-- my dear [a spin on the imp's "dearie"]
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Beta: Currently unbeta'd, but I'm working on it…

_There'll be a time you grow_  
_so young you won't know me,_  
_and this is terrifying_  
_because I still have things to ask_  
_about the body and dying_  
_and where memories go to live._  
_\-- Tishani Doshi, from "Love Poem Disguised as an Elegy"_  


  
  


"Where is she?"

She can hear him clearly the second the elevator doors open. He's more agitated than normal today. As she quickly makes her way down the disturbingly long hallway toward his room, her mind races over who he might be talking about and what's set him off this time.

Nurse Ratched steps up to her as she nears the door. "He's been like this all morning. We've had to restrain him."

"You _restrained_ him?" Regina stares at the door. "You know he hates that. Why the hell didn't you call me sooner?" She turns to step into the room, intending to calm him in the way that only she can, startled when a hand tugs at her forearm. She frowns back at Ratched, worry flooding her at the look in the other woman's eyes. "What happened?"

"Today is not one of his better days," comes the soft reply. "In fact, this may be the worst one he's had yet. You really should consider--"

"If you cherish your life, you won't finish that sentence, _dear_. Now let me go see my husband."

Ratched relinquishes her grip and takes a step back, gaze dropping just as it once did when she served in Regina's court. "Yes, Your Majesty," she murmurs.

Regina takes a deep breath to center herself, then steps into the room her husband's been in for the better part of three years now. His skin glistens with a sheen of sweat as he struggles against his restraints. She swallows audibly before softly saying his name. His head whips around to stare at her, wild-eyed and panting heavily. She tries again, taking a step closer. "Alasdair, it's me."

"Y-You're here," he finally says. " _Mo chridhe_ , let me loose. They keep me cuffed and bound like a common animal."

She moves to his side, a warm, damp cloth appearing in her hand to wipe at his face. "Just relax, _m'eudail_. No one's going to hurt you, I swear it. Let me help you." A smile curls up her lips when his eyes close briefly at her touch, relaxing back against the pillows. She takes her time to wick away the sweat and flecks of frothy saliva from his ranting, then moves to stroke the cloth down his neck and arms before she gently massages the fingers of his left hand. She strokes his wedding band, a simple circle of silver wrapped by a thin thread of gold with a small amethyst heart at the center. 

They'd joked about having rings made from gold that he'd spun, but when he actually proposed to her, it had been with a sterling silver band with an amethyst heart split in half and connected by the thinnest piece of gold she'd ever seen in her life. He explained to her that the silver just felt less tainted a metal than gold, but that he couldn't completely do without the thing that he was famous for. When she'd questioned the broken amethyst heart, he'd simply said that he'd played a part in breaking her heart and her will, and after getting his own second and _third_ chances at life and love, the only thing he had left to do was help to mend what he'd broken with the tools he had available to him. After that declaration, what else could she do but accept? He'd designed the wedding bands using a similar logic.

"Why won't they let me leave, Cora?" he asks softly, bringing her out of her thoughts with a painful jolt. "Why must I be kept here like a prisoner when I've done nothing wrong?"

"Alas-- Rumpel, please remember," she whispers, tears stinging her eyes.

"Cora, _mo chridhe_ , where are we? This isn't my castle, and it certainly isn't Xavier's. What magic have you learned to try to outdo your master, dearie?"

"S-Simply an illusion spell, my love," she says, voice hitching as she chokes on the words. "You wouldn't want it known that your best student is a simpleton, would you?"

His eyes slit open to stare at her suspiciously. "You're having a joke at my expense then, is it?" He looks around the room and down at his bound wrists. "You've dampened my magic? You saucy minx! I will not be the Merlin to your Nimue, miller's daughter. Untie me at once." His lips curl up into a painful rictus of a smile, much like he used to do in the Enchanted Forest. "Unless you've plans to use your womanly wiles on me?"

Before she can think of a response or take breath to utter it, he tenses beneath her touch. Without thought, her muscles clench in response, unsure what will come out of his mouth next. The tears sting behind closed eyelids, threatening to spill over if she just opens her eyes for the fraction of a second it takes to blink. She chokes down her own fears and emotions, knowing her husband needs her to be the strong one yet again. She prays Henry or even Rogers could be here to help settle him in his head for just a little while, but his periods of lucidity are coming less and less frequently, and he only gets agitated when he can't recognize his grandson or wants only to kill the man he sometimes still considers his mortal enemy.

"Regina, what's wrong?" he asks softly. She shakes her head minutely, a strangled sob escaping as he curls his pinky over her thumb. "I wandered again, didn't I? Oh, _m'eudail_ , I'm sorry."

Summoning the courage she's always had deep within, she lets out a heavy exhale and opens her eyes to smile at him. The way his brows furrow verifies that her smile definitely doesn't reach her eyes. "It's all right, Alasdair. It was brief. You didn't even truly hurt yourself."

"But I hurt you, didn't I?" He whispers the words, then his tone hardens with the next, cutting her off. "Don't lie to me, Regina. You _promised_ me the truth when they handed me this death sentence ten years ago."

"I--" She winces at her broken tone, clears her throat before trying again. "I know, but I don't want to upset you further. And it's _not_ a death sentence. You know I hate it when you say it like that."

He tries to turn his hand to hold hers, the leather cuff stopping him. "Please take this off, _m'eudail_. Let me hold you?"

A casual flick of her wrists undoes the restraints on wrists, waist, and ankles, and lowers the side rails. She climbs up onto the narrow bed as he shifts over, making room for her to curl into his side. His arms wind around her, pulling her closer to him almost desperately, and she lets him. His heartbeat is frantic beneath her cheek, and a part of her wishes to reach into his chest and cradle it in the palm of her hand in an attempt at calming him.

"Tell me what happened?" he finally asks, resting his cheek against her hair. 

He's quiet as she explains what happened once she arrived and saw him. She can feel his fingers flex, muscles twitching at her words, but leaves nothing out. They vowed total honesty with an ancient spell in a book of her mother's, of all things. She wants nothing more than to find some spell to fix his dementia, to make him the man she fell in love with twice over, once in her youth, and again in the years following the destruction of both her curse and three others after, including the one that cast them as secret lovers in a quiet neighborhood of Seattle, not long after they'd been married in Storybrooke. In the last thirty years since Emma Swan revived Henry with True Love's Kiss, Regina has seen the deaths of her mother, her sister, her soulmate, and her best friend. In his own way, Alasdair was her constant, her silent support in the face of everything, even when he had his own agendas to accomplish. She doesn't know how to live without him in her life. All of these thoughts begin to tumble past her lips, tears falling down her cheeks unchecked.

"Regina, _mo chridhe_ , you must let me go," he finally says when she pauses for a ragged breath. "The dementia is getting worse and you don't deserve this burden."

"Alasdair--"

"No, let me finish. You have been my prized student, my greatest protégé, my friend, and most importantly, my wife. You and I have been inextricably bound for the entirety of your life. You have seen some of my highest and lowest moments, and I am grateful to have shared them with you. But I can see how much it hurts you when I wander, particularly when I confuse you for your mother. If modern medical science hasn't found a cure for this by now, they won't in my lifetime. I am over three hundred and fifty years old, Regina, and I have died several times already. Something always brought me back, unfinished business of some sort or another, but it's time for me to rest."

"But I don't know how to live without your presence."

"I know, and I vow that I will fight to stay with you as long as I can, but I want you to promise me that when this burden becomes too great for both of us, when I am gone more than I am present as your husband, then I want you to help me go to sleep and let nature do the rest."

"Alasdair…"

He shakes his head. "If I am unable to stay in the present, that means the darkness will leave me for good soon enough. It has no further need of me, _mo chridhe_ , and you need no longer be tethered to the Dark One. Promise me, Regina."

She stares at him for a long moment, finally accepting in her heart what her head has been telling her for some time now. A deep breath inflates her lungs, and she nods before letting it out on an anguished sob. He simply holds her closer and presses repeated kisses to her hair, murmuring reassurances in a blend of English and Gaelic, his own tears slipping down his cheeks.

"I love you, Alasdair," she eventually whispers, voice ragged from emotion. Exhaustion tugs at her consciousness, and she knows she should probably return his restraints in case he has another incident, but she just can't keep her husband bound like a rabid animal.

And as sleep finally claims her, the last words she hears are, "And I you, Co-- _Regina_."

It will be several hours later, when she wakes from a peacefully deep and dreamless sleep, that she discovers that her husband did exactly as he'd requested: slipped into that final, eternal sleep as Alasdair Gold, husband to one Regina Mills-Gold, with a soft smile on his face and his wife in his embrace one last time.


End file.
